


Unsent Letters

by Dee_Moyza



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Epistolary, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 02:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20418476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dee_Moyza/pseuds/Dee_Moyza
Summary: A series of letters from Julia Heartilly to Laguna Loire, detailing important developments in her life.  (Pre-game, one-shot.  Written for the 2019 Successor Challenge.)





	Unsent Letters

**Author's Note:**

> This story originally appeared as a series of images on Tumblr, hence the references to stationery. Other than that, there are no details omitted from the text.

* * *

Dear Soldier-with-the-Lovely-Eyes,

It's funny, isn't it, that I don't even know your name. We talked for so long that night, it seems strange that I never asked for it. I suppose we got carried away talking about hopes and fears and dreams, swept up in such a lovely vision of the future that we figured there would be time enough for proper introductions later.

But time had other plans, I suppose.

I wonder where you are right now. I wonder if you are well, if you are even still alive. Where did they send you from Deling City? What sights can you see from where you are? I hope it's not a dangerous place. Please be careful, and come back safely. We have so much more to talk about!

I've begun writing the lyrics I discussed with you that night. I think they're coming along quite well. I'd include a sample here, but I'm ... embarrassed. You see, what began as an ode to your lovely eyes and your constant presence kind of transformed into a ... love song. I don't know how that happened! I guess I've been missing you. The bar seems so empty and quiet without you and your friends. It's lonely. _I’m_ lonely. I haven't been home in months, and, as big as Deling City is, I still haven't found anyone that I can talk to the way I talked to you. Everyone seems so busy, just going about their lives, that talking about music and lyrics and my passion for both feels a bit silly.

And I should probably feel silly right now, too, rambling on to someone who might not even remember me. But somehow, I think you would, and I think you would still be willing to listen to me talk, and you'd still be willing to share your own dreams with me. Because that's what we are, right? Dreamers. Kindred spirits. And that means we'll be connected, always, no matter how many miles separate us. 

I don't dare tell other people about you -- not because I'm ashamed, but because I know they wouldn't understand the connection between us. They'd say I'm wasting my time waiting on a soldier, they'd say I've got my head up in the clouds. What they don't know -- and what _we do_ \-- is that the clouds have the best view of everything.

Well, it's getting pretty late here in Deling. I wonder what time it is where you are, and what time the sun rises, and whether it rises over a city or a forest, or a desert or the sea. I wish I could talk with you while you're away, or at least have an address to send this letter to; it would make the waiting much more bearable. But I'm nothing if not patient, and I can be pretty stubborn, too, so I'll hold out hope that you'll return soon. I'll keep hoping, and I'll keep working, and by the time you come back, I'll have a brand-new record deal. You'll see -- I'll take your inspiration and make something beautiful. I'll make you proud to call me your friend, and say you knew me "back when"!

Until then, Soldier, please take care. I look forward to seeing you again!

All the best wishes,

Julia Heartilly

* * *

Dear Soldier,

Do you, by any chance, remember a man named Fury Caraway? He's fairly well-respected in military circles, as he should be! He was just promoted to General a few days ago, and he stopped by the bar with some of his friends last night to celebrate. He's very stern-looking, but surprisingly eloquent. He made several requests throughout the evening, all of songs I'm surprised a military man would know, let alone appreciate. He stayed behind after his friends left, and chatted with me a while; apparently, he'd been trained in classical violin when he was very young, before his father insisted he pursue a career in the military. So that's how he came to know those songs!

He praised my technique, and asked if I had considered recording an instrumental album. I couldn't help myself -- I confessed to wanting to record a vocal album, instead. I showed him some of the songs I've been writing -- but not the one about you; it's too personal! -- and he thinks they have some commercial potential. He's even offered to put me in touch with a producer -- Albrecht Portner! -- to help me polish some of these pieces.

What do you think of that? I'm on the road to becoming a real singer! 

I'll admit, it was all just a stroke of dumb luck, but that doesn't make me appreciate it any less. Maybe that prediction I made in an earlier letter wasn't so ridiculous. Maybe, by the time you come back, I really will have a recording contract. 

Oh, it's all so exciting! And the best part is, preparing an album will keep my mind occupied, so I won't always be worrying about you, like I have been since you left my hotel room. I'll be busy becoming _the_ Julia Heartilly, and time will pass more quickly, and one evening, I'll look up from my piano and see your beautiful eyes again. I just know it!

And then we can talk about your adventures and my music, and I'll finally get to learn your name! 

The future is looking so bright here at the Galbadia Hotel. I hope it's just as lovely wherever you are. Stay safe, and come back quickly, and -- I hope this isn't presumptuous of me -- think of me, even just a little, from time to time. Please? International fame means nothing if you're forgotten by the person you feel closest to.

Until we meet again, dear soldier!

With warmest wishes,

Julia Heartilly

* * *

Dear Soldier,

How long has it been? As you can see, I'm no longer writing on paper from the Galbadia Hotel -- because I finally have an apartment of my own! I met with Mr. Portner not long after I wrote that last letter, and he (with a little prodding from Gen. Caraway, I'm sure) agreed to produce a demo for me. For that, I did use my song about you -- it is the most beautiful of all I've written, even if it was my first -- and Mr. Portner simply _loved_ it! He sent it to several record companies, and even to the local radio stations, and before I knew it, I was fielding calls from concert venues and record labels alike!

And I have you to thank for all of it. You and your beautiful eyes. And your confidence in me from the very beginning, too!

Now I _really_ wish I knew your name, so I could thank you personally when my album does come out. I suppose I'll simply have to dedicate it to "the soldier with the lovely eyes." Surely, you'll know I'm talking about you!

You might be wondering how I'm getting on with Gen. Caraway, since he is the one who helped jump-start my career. Dear soldier, he is one of the most amazing people I have met! (Don't worry, you're on that list, too!) He is so supportive of me, and so kind. Whenever I get down, whenever I really start missing home, or missing you, he talks me out of my blue mood, telling me silly stories of his army friends, or the history of the places he's been sent to. He believes in me, just like you do, and I feel like a _very spoiled girl_ to know not just one, but _two_ brave, amazing, handsome men!

Oops, I need to get going! I apologize for such a short letter, but Albrecht has booked some studio sessions for me, and I'm already running late!

Wish me luck!

Your eternally grateful friend,  
the soon-to-be-famous

Julia Heartilly

* * *

Soldier,

Would you look at that! My own letterhead! It takes a lot to keep a woman's ego in check once she has stationery printed in her own name!

It has been far too long since I've written you last, and so many things have changed in my life in the meantime. My previous words to you about Fury Caraway seem so quaint in comparison to how I truly feel about him now. He has become a pillar of my world, my biggest fan, my most honest critic. 

I love him.

I know, the words scare me, too. I have never felt this way about anyone before, so it seems odd that I could recognize the feeling and name it right off. Soldier, have you ever been in love? Did you know right away, or did it sneak up on you like a roadside bandit? Mine was definitely the latter, but the bandit didn't have to steal a thing. I gave my heart willingly.

Oh, listen to me! Spouting nonsense like a romance novel! You wouldn't care to read that, would you? No, you'd want to know how my career is going, and I would tell you that it has launched like an airship, just as bright and beautiful. My album released just last month, and I used your song for the title. "Eyes on Me," by Julia Heartilly. 

I have so many interviews and concerts to attend to, my head is spinning, and I had the most surreal experience yesterday inside my car, when my song began playing on the radio. I had to pull over, I had so many emotions running through me. I reached my destination with swollen eyes and full of giddy giggles, but how else is a person supposed to react to realizing her dream has come true?

Well, it's almost come true. You're not here to share it, to know how much I appreciated your inspiration and support in the early days. Fury and Albrecht might have tended to my career as a green shoot, but you -- and your beautiful eyes -- planted the seed. I will never be able to thank you enough.

This may very well be my last letter to you. My time is hardly my own these days, it seems, and I don't think I can provide the quality updates you're accustomed to. Or _would be_ accustomed to, if I'd ever known where to send these. 

They will remain unsent, dear Soldier, and unread by any eyes but mine. I shall bind them in a lovely ribbon and keep them in my desk drawer, a reminder of when my muse was with me, even if he couldn't be by my side.

Thank you so much for everything you've given me. My only regret is that you might never know how much that is.

With deepest affection and gratitude,

Julia Heartilly

* * *

Dear Soldier-with-the-Lovely-Eyes,

Three years ago, I bid you farewell in my last letter, but I realize now that that was a bit premature. I can't let you go without introducing you to somebody very special, somebody who fills my heart in a way not even you or my husband can.

Her name is Rinoa, and she turned two years old today. She looks a lot like me, and she seems to have inherited my optimism -- but with a significant amount of her father's stubbornness, as well. Fury is over the moon with her, spoiling her like a princess, spending his every spare moment with her. The feeling seems to be mutual; some days, she seems to come to me only for basic care -- feeding and cleaning and the like. If Fury were more competent at child-rearing, I might never see her at all!

I exaggerate. It warms my heart to see the two of them together, to see the light and softness in my husband's face, to see the peace and hope in my daughter's. I have redoubled my hope that you might return to Deling City one day, so that you might meet her, and that she might meet you, the man who inspired me to follow my dream, the man who nudged me down the path that has rewarded me with more than any mortal deserves.

This will truly be my final letter, but it will not be bound with the others. It will go to my daughter, when she is old enough to understand what I'm writing about, when she is old enough to understand the myriad forms love takes. I hope it will give her insight into her mother's thoughts and heart, and I hope that someday, she will feel as fulfilled and blessed as I do now.

Thank you again, dear soldier, for everything. Thank you, and goodbye.

With affection always,

Julia Heartilly


End file.
